Chapter 6 — Ebisugawa's Heir (Part 2)

Once December came around the howling winds began to smell of winter, and the time around dawn and dusk grew bitter cold. The peak of the glorious autumn leaves on the mountainsides had passed, and it was during this season that I grew especially fond of my bed of dry leaves.

I was minding the curio shop on Teramachi Street when Yaichirō made an unexpected appearance.

“When will you be done here?”

“Once Chujirō comes back from his meeting, should be around 4 or so.”

“I want you to come with me to the Faux Denki Bran distillery. Kureichirō has granted Yashirō a new laboratory, and I want to see what it’s like.”

“Oh, sweet. Count me in!”

“Oh, how chilly it has gotten. Blast that Old Man Winter.”

This afternoon Yaichirō’s schedule was clear for once, and with a grunt he eased himself down onto a chair. I didn’t see much fatigue in his face; on the contrary he seemed to have plenty left in the tank. Yaichirō had been absolutely swamped recently—taking over ever more duties from Yasaka Heitarō, meeting bigwigs and attending ceremonies in preparation for taking on the post of Trick Magister, and now on top of that reconciliation talks with Ebisugawa Kureichiro—and he often didn’t come home until the wee hours of the morning. Work came flying at him from every direction, yet he never allowed the slightest shadow of weariness to darken his cheerful demeanor. This likely had something to do with the nosebleed-inducing quantity of energy drinks which Mother kept forcing upon him, but also the support of Nanzenji Gyokuran. Yaichirō spent every spare moment he had playing shogi with her, evidently quite energized at the thought of their upcoming marriage at the beginning of next year.

I poured him a cup of bancha.

“You know, you’re actually starting to give off a sort of distinguished aura. I guess Trick-Magisters-to-be are just built different.”

“Keep your mockery to yourself,” said Yaichirō, though he didn’t really sound angry. “It was very touch-and-go for a while, with that assassination rumor flying about.“

“But the job’s as good as yours now, no?”

“No, I cannot rest easy yet. There is a proper procedure to these things.”

As I drank my tea and listened to Yaichirō wax poetic about his plans after getting married, Kiyomizu Chujirō made his return, so my brother and I left the shop and headed for the Faux Denki Bran distillery. People went back and forth on Teramachi Street bundled up for the winter. The most thickly bundled up of all I knew were tanuki, and each time we passed one Yaichirō made sure to fussily exchange greetings with them.

Along the way, Yaichirō sang the praises of Ebisugawa Kureichirō.

After the reconciliation in the Tadasu Forest, Ebisugawa Kureichirō had been exceedingly gracious to the Shimogamo clan, not once asking for anything in return. Not only had he publicly repudiated the assassination rumors, he was also assisting Yaichirō with his immense workload, and in honor of the reconciliation of the two clans had even had produced a limited edition run of Faux Denki Bran and distributed them to all parties involved, free of charge.

“Kureichirō is truly a splendid tanuki.”

“Sure, he’s nice, but he’s still Sōun’s son, y’know?”

“I assure you, he is so unlike Sōun that I can hardly believe that old tanuki’s blood flows through his veins.”

Now that the uproar after Sōun’s death had subsided, the distillery was back in full operation.

Once we passed through the gates and entered the distillery’s austere entrance hall, Ebisugawa Kureichirō quickly came scurrying down the stairs. He’d been back in Kyoto for some time now, yet he still wore those tattered robes, still had the grime of the road on his face. Apparently he was continuing his ascetic lifestyle. Living in poverty was all well and good, but I really wished he’d do something about the smell.

Kureichirō gripped Yaichirō’s hand with evident pleasure and led us through the distillery.

“You have been very kind to Yashirō. Thank you,” said Yaichirō.

“No, no, it has been my pleasure. In fact, Yashirō has taught me a great deal.”

“He’s always nose-deep in a book,” I commented.

“Indeed, I regard him as a genius of our times. It is truly wonderful.”

Yashirō’s laboratory looked like the lair of a mad scientist, and both Yaichirō and I were taken aback by just how elaborate it was. In the center was a lab countertop about two tatami in area, stacked high with vacuum tubes and circuit boards that had seemingly been dredged out of the recesses of the warehouses. The surrounding walls were almost completely blocked off with piles of mysterious equipment; the bookshelves were crammed full of dog-eared books on magnetism and biographies of famous figures.

Yashirō came crawling out from behind the countertop, dressed in work fatigues and proudly wearing the goggles which the Heir had given to him. Behind him he was dragging a device that looked like a rice cooker, which was spitting out blue sparks.

“You’re not thinking of creating an artificial human in here, are you?” I asked in amazement.

“Isn’t it awesome? Kureichirō said I can use whatever I like!”

“At any rate it was all just gathering dust in the warehouses,” Kureichirō said. “Nothing would please us more than to see it being put to good use.”

“Will any of it electrocute you?” Yaichirō said, sounding worried.

“Sometimes I get a little shock, but that just perks me right up!”

Yashirō may have been a scaredy cat and a terrible shapeshifter, but when it came to electricity he excelled. In fact, he had the very un-tanuki-like trait of being able to discharge electricity from his fingers. It was a peculiar twist of fate that Mother, who hated thunder so much, should have a son who was so skilled with manipulating electricity.

Yashirō was attempting to recreate the original recipe which Professor Inazuma, the inventor of Faux Denki Bran, had come up with back in the Taishō period. He laid out the professor’s notes which he had discovered in the lab and went on to explain how to apply voltage and the circulation rate of undiluted solution and the inner workings of the electrical discharge apparatus, but all of it went right over our heads.

“Incredible. I don’t understand a single word,” Yaichirō muttered.

But the experimental Faux Denki Bran which Yashirō had concocted was absolutely vile; it tasted like a rotten egg mixed into brush ink. The instant it entered our mouths we all cried out in anguish.

“It certainly has a depth of flavor,” Kureichirō said.

“Depth, or perhaps a little funk,” Yaichirō said.

“I’m going to be honest, this is the worst stuff I have ever tried,” I said.

Yashirō tried a sip of his experiment and nodded knowingly. “Just like I thought, there’s something wrong with the electrical discharge apparatus. I’ll look for another one in the warehouse.”

With a scholar’s determination, Yashirō stormed out of the lab, glaring at his notes all the while.

　　　　　　　◯

“Take your time,” said Ebisugawa Kureichirō, exiting the lab.

Yaichirō clutched his cup like it contained precious nectar, grimacing as he sipped the failed Faux Denki Bran and walked around Yashirō’s lab.

“You know you don’t have to drink it all, right? You’re going to regret it later.”

I didn’t hear what Yaichirō half-heartedly mumbled back, but looking at his turned back I could feel a sort of reverence for Yashirō’s incomprehensible talent. He was like a proud father watching his son take his first steps out into the world. I was quite sure now that it had been Yaichirō who had asked Kureichirō to give Yashirō his lab.

Yaichirō finally came back and sat on a wooden chair in front of me. He stared at the cup in his hand with a very serious look on his face. “This is a good opportunity. I’d like to ask your advice on something.”

“Ah, finally decided to put things in your capable little brother’s paws, have we?”

“I wouldn’t put it that way, precisely, but...I suppose so. I have known ever since Kureichirō returned to Kyoto that I would eventually have to have this talk, but it is a very delicate topic, you see. You know all too well, how dense I can be when it comes to things like this, and in fact I do not know how to proceed. However, what must be said must be said, and this sort of thing requires one to go through certain procedures; the sooner it is done the better, but of course one must also consider the feelings of the opposite party…”

He was being so roundabout I had no idea what he was talking about. “Yeah, I know exactly how awkward you can be. Now can you get to the point?”

“Don’t rush me, I was just getting to it.” But rather than doing that, he launched into a grandiose retelling of the history of the Shimogawa-Ebisugawa feud, and how dearly Grandfather had wished for this reconciliation. After several minutes of this, the end was still nowhere in sight. Yaichirō always embarked on these grand detours whenever he was tiptoeing around a sensitive subject.

At last, he took a deep breath, and asked firmly, “Would you consider renewing your engagement with Kaisei?”

I stared at him, slack-jawed. “C’mon, where’d that come from?”

“Of course, we would need to consult with Kaisei and Kureichirō…”

When we were still pups, Father and Ebisugawa Sōun had pledged to have Kaisei and me wed. Now that I thought about it, it was pretty unlikely that Sōun had ever intended on following through on that promise. After Father was made into stew, Sōun had unilaterally cancelled the engagement.

But Kaisei had never exactly been much of a blushing bride-to-be. Around the time we entered the throes of puberty she began to hide herself from me, though in spite of that she still read to me from her dictionary of insults every chance she got. Fed up, I considered the cancelling of the engagement to be a blessing, and I had no intention of reinstating it now.

“No, thank you,” I declared, shaking my head. “You haven’t gotten your own marriage done with, and you’re already looking for a bride for me? You need to slow your roll, brother.”

“It’s tanuki like you who need to find a bride and settle down, the sooner the better. Who knows what mischief you will get up to otherwise. I wouldn’t put it past you to fall into a stewpot.”

“So that’s why you’re saying I gotta keep an eye on the Kaisei prize?”

“What I am saying is that you need to have something to protect.”

“I’m sure this’d be real convenient for you, solidifying the reconciliation and all. But I wouldn’t get engaged to that foul-mouthed, invisible weirdo for anything. And besides what would happen to Yajirō? You ever think about him before proposing this idea?”

Yaichirō had to know that Yajirō was in love with Kaisei.

Yaichirō’s voice softened. “Yasaburō, this idea came from Yajirō.”

For a moment I couldn’t find my voice. I thought of that little frog down there in the well, glaring at his shogi board.

“Yajirō’s going to leave Kyoto, isn’t he?”

“I think it is best we let him go.”

“I don’t want to!” I shouted. “How come you’re not gonna stop him?”

“He must walk his own path.”

“I never took you for such a coldhearted tanuki!”

“He must walk his own path, and you must walk yours. I am considering the future of the Shimogamo clan. Father is no longer here. If I do not think of the good of you all, who will?”

An unreasonable fury bubbled up from the pit of my stomach.

“I never asked you to take Father’s place!” I said. “You can’t replace him. You’re just full of yourself!”

Sometimes I still think about what a cruel thing that was to say.

I was expecting him to shout back, but instead he just hung his head and smiled.

“Yes,” he murmured. “You’re right.”

The door opened, and Yashirō came in precariously balancing a cardboard box filled with bits and bobs. When he saw me he flinched and stopped in his tracks.

“Yasaburō, how come you look so mad?”

　　　　　　　◯

Twilight indigo had enveloped Rokudō Chinnōji when I visited that evening.

Yajirō had removed himself from tanuki society and holed up in this old well when Father passed to the other side. I wondered how many times my feet had taken me here since then.

This well was known in the tanuki world as a place for young tanuki who had lost their way to come and bury their troubles, but I might have been the most frequent visitor of all. Sometimes Yajirō and I would just babble on and on to each other into the night until light was creeping into the sky overhead. It had been a year now since that night when Yajirō and I had witnessed Benten shedding tears into the well under the light of the full moon.

I called into the mouth of the well. “Hey, Yajirō. Still alive down there?”

“...Is that Yasaburō? I figured you’d be showing up right around now.”

I turned into a frog and hopped down into the well.

The lanterns of the tiny shrine shone dimly over the island at the bottom of the well. Water lapped along the shore, where Yajirō was sitting and staring at his belongings which were laid out on top of an arabesque-patterned cloth. I crawled onto land and glanced at the toy-sized collection, which appeared to be the sum of Yajirō’s earthly possessions.

“Looks like everything a frog owns can fit into a handkerchief,” remarked Yajirō. “Surprises me even, a little. But I suppose it’s best to travel light.”

“So you’re really leaving on a journey, then?”

“...I know what you want to say. You’re against it, right?”

“Isn’t your shapeshifting still a little rusty?”

“I’ll get by. I’ve got Grandmother’s medicine, too.”

“Mother’ll be heartbroken.”

“Oof, I really wish you hadn’t said that. But I’m definitely going to come back one day.” Yajirō croaked offhandedly, like he was trying to lighten the mood. “All right, wanna take a look at my treasures?”

He started to go through his belongings one by one, picking each item up carefully and explaining its history.

There was the miniature shogi set which he had received from Nanzenji Gyokuran; Father’s shogi puzzle books; the tengu beans which Master Akadama had given him on Setsubun; a pouch containing Grandmother’s pills; a good luck charm of Shimogamo Shrine from Mother; a Polaroid of an Eizan railcar which he had used to practice transforming. Even the ordinary-looking river stones and marbles each had a story behind them.

As I watched him pack, I felt a lump growing in my throat.

Ever since he was a pup Yajirō had always been a little lackadaisical, never showing any flashes of brilliance, only ever thought of as an idiot. He was unusually morose for a tanuki, hardly ever got fired up for anything, could never be counted on to do anything. But oh, how I loved his gentle wisdom.

“Don’t go, Yajirō.”

“You depend on me too much, Yasaburō,” Yajirō said kindly. “And we all depend too much on Yaichirō.”

With a soft hup, Yajirō stretched his little wobbly body and started doing some peculiar-looking warm-up exercises. I watched him with confusion until to my surprise he dived into the water with a kerplop. Apparently he was training his body in the freezing water to prepare for the long journey ahead. Yajirō swam smoothly out to the edges of the well where the lantern light didn’t reach, bobbing up and down in the water. I remained sitting on the shore, watching him.

“Aren’t you cold?”

“I’m freezing. It feels like my heart’ll stop beating!”

“Isn’t that actually bad for your body?”

“Hah, this is nothing. I’ve got a long road ahead of me, after all.”

I went back to the handkerchief and looked at Yajirō’s belongings. There I saw a daruma, its red body shining like a polished apple, one eye painted black. On a whim I picked it up and turned it over, and to my astonishment found written on the back in bold black lettering, “WISHING SHIMOGAMO YAJIRŌ A SWIFT RECOVERY—EBISUGAWA KAISEI”.

“Yasaburō!” Yajirō shouted from the murky water. “Do you believe in the red fur of fate?”

“I’m not too sure.”

“There are these two tanuki I know pretty well, and they’re wrapped up real good by the red fur of fate. It’s a funny thing, this red string. It’s so apparent, looking at them from afar, but apparently those two haven’t even realized it yet,” Yajirō mused, floating in the water. “Ah, young love. It’s enough to make a green frog go red all over.”

　　　　　　　◯

I understood where Yaichirō was coming from, but I really didn’t want to get re-engaged to Kaisei. I understood where Yajirō was coming from too, but I didn’t want him to go on his journey. I knew I should return to the Tadasu Forest and talk it over with Yaichirō, but I didn’t want to do that either.

I just didn’t want any of this at all.

This is precisely where the tsuchinoko comes in.

“I know, I’ll go tsuchinoko hunting!”

Leaving the well at Rokudō Chinnōji I entered the mountains, roaming Higashiyama on the trail of these mysterious creatures, not returning to the Tadasu Forest. To be honest about it, I was running away from home.

The forest in December was frigid and still, and there was not the slightest trace of a tsuchinoko anywhere. I wondered whether they might not be hibernating. Not being sure whether these noble cryptids still adhered to a typical reptile lifestyle, I kicked up fallen leaves, sniffed around, dug holes with a shovel, and continued my unrelenting search.

When the curtain of night fell my thoughts went back to my family waiting at home in the Tadasu Forest, and decided before going to sleep that I would go back tomorrow, but the next day, I resumed my hunt for tsuchinoko. I was so engrossed in the hunt that I dreamt that I had become a tsuchinoko myself. I started to doubt whether I was hunting the tsuchinoko, or whether I was the tsuchinoko that was being hunted.

A week passed in this way.

Back in the Tadasu Forest the Shimogamo family, including Nanzenji Gyokuran, huddled in discussion. Even those who had at first advised to let me alone started to worry when my absence dragged on. At the end of the meeting Gyokuran was entrusted with clearing up the affair, and paid a call to the Faux Denki Bran distillery.

It was in the reception rooms that she conveyed to Kaisei the news that I had gone AWOL in the mountains.

And that’s how my ex-fiancée ended up trekking up into the mountains to talk me into coming down.

　　　　　　　◯

After having a soak at the natural radium hot springs in Kitashirakawa and slurping up a bowl of udon, I rambled around Mount Uryū until the sun went down. I arranged a bed of dry leaves at my campground, turned on a battery-powered lantern, and nibbled on a hard biscuit. The branches around me were gradually melting into the darkness which crept steadily through the trees.

I had turned into my human form, clad in the regalia of the Tsuchinoko Expeditionary Brigade. Having a hard time falling asleep, I just stared mistily at the light of the lamp.

Do you believe in the red fur of fate? Yajirō had asked.

It had been back during the distant mists of puberty that Kaisei had last shown herself to me, and now all I could remember of my ex-fiancée’s appearance was a brown blob that resembled a Kamenoko scrubbing brush. It was a bit much to expect me to feel some sort of destiny with a scrubbing brush that spewed out a stream of insults every time it opened its mouth. Plus, supposing we did get married, I would be well and truly stuck with those two bottomless idiots Kinkaku and Ginkaku, and that was a future depressing enough to warrant tearing off even the red fur of fate. I couldn’t allow my future-self to suffer this fate.

“Oh, woe is me…”

Exactly as I said this, I heard a voice saying, “So this is where your dumb ass has been hiding!”

An overturned black basket came shuffling out of the woods like some woodland spirit.

“What’re you doing all the way out here?”

“Duh, I’m here to get you, you dumb oaf!” The black basket shook. “You’re making your mom and Yaichirō and even Miss Gyokuran worry. You’re so irresponsible I can’t believe you call yourself a tanuki. Are you a baby?”

Though her words were poisonous she wasn’t wrong, which annoyed me even more. Surely there was a softer, more tanuki-like way to convey the same thing. I was so peeved that I rolled over to face away from her.

“Yeah, sure, I’m a baby. Now leave me alone.”

“See, you’re sulking! Ugh, you’re such a pain!”

“I never asked you to come get me. I just want some time alone to think, okay?”

“Hmph. What could your peabrain possibly have to think about? It’s not like you ever have any good ideas when something serious happens, anyways. The only thing you’re good for is acting like an idiot!”

“Could you shut up already? Otherwise I’m going to come over and pluck your tail bald.”

“Ooh, why don’t you come here and try it then?”

“I’m not talking to you anymore!”

“Then I’m not talking to you either!”

“Fine!”

“Fine!”

My ex-fiancée went quiet, and silence descended on the darkness-ensconced campsite.

I tried to fall asleep, but Kaisei didn’t seem to be leaving. She kept skulking around, her footsteps crunching on the dead leaves heavily like some kind of robot, wandering through the light of the lamp, stumbling over tree roots.

“I’m just talking to myself here,” she finally muttered. “I don’t want to restore the engagement. So don’t lose any sleep over it.”

“I’m just talking to myself too, but that’s just fine with me.”

“We’re in agreement, then. I’ve already got two idiots to deal with, I’d never be able to deal with a third!”

Irritated, I got up and glared at the black basket. “I’m already over it. Only a freak would ever want to be engaged to you!”

“A freak, huh?”

“You’re stuck up, foulmouthed, and you haven’t shown yourself in years. I just don’t get you!”

“Yeah, yeah, I bet you don’t.”

“When I heard the engagement was cancelled I was so relieved.”

“Me too. I was relieved that I wouldn’t have to get married to a big idiot!”

“I’d be happier getting married to a pickling stone!”

“If you’ll take a pickle stone, then I’d rather get married to the Navel Stone!”

Kaisei expounded on what a good husband the Navel Stone would be. It wouldn’t call her stupid, it wouldn’t quarrel with Kinkaku or Ginkaku, it wouldn’t hang around with people who eat tanuki stew, and it certainly wouldn’t fall in love with a half-baked tengu named Benten, among other things. At last the insults began raining down on me like confetti at a ticker tape parade, including such glowing hits as “Townie!” “Bristletail!” “Simp!” “Babyrager!” “Double simp!” Strangely enough, she was starting to sob.

“What’re you crying for?”

“Who said I’m crying! What do I have to cry about!” she shouted furiously.

“Yeah, but…”

“If you wanna see me so bad, I’ll show myself to you. Then you’ll understand why we could never be betrothed!”

Ebisugawa tossed aside the basket that covered her head. It wasn’t a grotesque demon that appeared in the lamplight, but a female tanuki, her glossy fur shining, and the cutest tanuki I had ever seen, maybe even in the entire world. But the instant I laid my eyes on her, my butt gave a little twinge and my tail came sprouting out. As I looked on, aghast, my transformation came sliding off, and I turned back into a furball.

I stared at my furry paws in astonishment.

“What did I tell you!” Kaisei looked at me furiously. “Whenever you see me, your transformation comes undone!”

　　　　　　　◯

Kaisei had come to this realization when we were still students of Master Akadama.

This had happened at exactly the same time that my butt had been beset by a plague of mushrooms, and having been thoroughly ridiculed by Kinkaku and Ginkaku I was feeling particularly down. During those days Nanzenji Gyokuran took me to the proctology clinic many times, and every time my transformation came undone I blamed it on the mushrooms.

“It may just be your nerves, boy. These things do happen,” said the goateed doctor at the clinic.

Only Kaisei suspected what the real cause of my slump was.

Each time she tried approaching me, I wound up reverting into a tanuki. Seeing how I would come to the end of my rope being chased around my Kinkaku and Ginkaku, she gradually stopped coming near me altogether. After all, there was nothing Shimogamo Yasaburō was more proud of than having a thick skin and being able to transform as he pleased. As Kaisei disappeared from my sight, I gradually convinced myself that it had been a lingering symptom of the mushrooms and eventually became obsessed with protecting my behind. What a simpleton I was.

Still, I could scarcely believe that Kaisei had kept this secret locked up in her heart by herself all these years. I didn’t know what to call this extraordinarily noble effort, except a real waste of time.

I was so shocked that I let something unwise slip out. “...You really are an idiot.”

Kaisei’s fur bristled in the lamp light. “I’m the idiot?”

“Who else would it be?”

“Fine, I’m an idiot!”

“Saying it out loud doesn’t make it better, you know.”

“Okay, I’m a loudmouth, I’m an idiot, I’m a shrinking violet, whatever! What do you want me to say, I’m just a tanuki!” Kaisei glared at me across the lamp. “...So that’s that, there’s no way we’re going back to being betrothed!”

We continued our staring contest for some time.

Suddenly Kaisei’s gaze flickered, and she looked uneasily over her shoulder into the darkness. “Hey, do you hear that weird voice?” She walked hesitantly around the lamp towards me.

I pricked up my ears and heard in the darkness what seemed to be weeping coming intermittently from the dark. Not only that, but the ghostly voice sounded like it was coming closer. Kaisei had always been deathly afraid of ghost stories since she was young, and now she pressed her incredibly warm body against me, her nose quivering with trepidation. “What is that freaky voice?”

“It sounds like a kid crying.”

“At this hour? This deep in the mountains?”

We stayed pressed against one another, holding our breaths and listening to that weeping.

At last the sound came right up to the edge of the trees, and then a white will-o’-the-wisp-looking thing came bouncing out of the darkness directly at us.

Kaisei shrieked, but I grabbed hold of her. “Calm down, it’s alright. It’s just Grandma, from Tanukidani Fudō.”

“Huh? Grandmother?” Kaisei said, looking amazed.

The sobbing, citrus-sized ball of white fluff rolled up to our feet, worming her way in between us without saying a word. Then, giving a little shake of relief, she whispered in that girlish voice of hers, “Oh, how frightening that was! But it’s warm and cozy here.”

“Are you by yourself? What are you doing here?” I inquired.

“I was taking a walk when I lost my way. I can’t see anything, you see.” Grandmother took a whiff of my scent. “Oh? Do I know you, young man?”

“I believe you do. We met in the summer.”

“I thought so! But I don’t know this young lady.”

“My name is Kaisei,” said Kaisei, managing a proper introduction despite her shock.

“Kaisei...I’ll remember that. Tell me, Kaisei, I don’t smell strange, do I?”

Kaisei sniffed Grandmother’s white fur. “You smell very nice.”

“I knew it! I didn’t think I smelled strange,” Grandmother exclaimed happily.

Grandmother had set off from Tanukidani Fudō on a whim, but not knowing the way back had stumbled around and around the forest. Tanukidani Fudō is down Mount Uryū towards the northwest, and at the moment it was probably buzzing like a beehive with all of Grandmother’s disciples searching frantically for their founder.

Grandmother curled up between me and Kaisei, telling us how scary the mountain at night had been. She claimed that she had been being chased by a slender angel of death, which strode after her on its long limbs. “If it had caught me it would have taken me to the other side like that!” shivered Grandma.

After a pause, she suddenly asked, “Are you two married?”

“No we’re not!” answered Kaisei.

“Oh. But you’re all tangled up by the red fur of fate, aren’t you? I can see it.”

“Well, we’ll be married someday. We’re engaged, see,” I interjected.

“I knew it!” Grandmother exclaimed, quivering contentedly and looking pleased with herself.

“Do you think we can make it?” I asked her.

“Is that what you’re worried about?” Grandma giggled. “As long as you keep things light and fluffy things will work out. We’re tanuki, you see. Fluffy is our middle name!”

“Well, all right then.”

“Let me let you in on a secret. I was once married, too. I’ve forgotten all the painful things, and I only remember all the wonderful things. I gave birth to many adorable little furballs, I think...and now that I’m thinking about them, I wonder where they’ve all gone? Those laughing, tumbling little furballs…” Grandmother gave a wide yawn. “I always fall asleep so easily, no matter when, or where.”

Just before she nodded off, Grandmother murmured sleepily, over and over, “Do your best, young man. Do your best.”

“I will,” I answered, stroking her brilliant white fur.

“The flow is muddying. You’ve got to keep your fur spick and span, hmm?”

“I know, spick and span.”

“You’ve got to make a ruckus and stir things up.”

“I’ll make a ruckus, a fine old one.”

Hearing me say that Grandmother smiled, and a quiver went through her soft fur. “Fun things are good things. Isn’t that right, young man?” And then, deflating like a soufflé, she fell fast asleep.

After listening to her soft breathing for a little while, Kaisei and I whispered between ourselves and agreed that we should take her back to the tanuki at Tanukidani Fudō. Kaisei transformed into a girl scout of the Tsuchinoko Expeditionary Brigade and picked Grandmother up, holding the lamp high above the dark road. I remained a tanuki.

Together we descended the mountain path towards Tanukidani Fudō. Before long we sensed the presence of many tanuki in the woods. Countless flashlights glimmered in the darkness below the cedars.

“That’s Uncle and the disciples coming up,” I said. Kaisei held the lantern high and swung it side to side so that it could be easily seen from below. In her arms, the white fluffball that was Grandmother slowly expanded and contracted, breathing adorably in her sleep.

Kaisei squatted down and whispered in my ear, “Are you sure?”

“...Yeah, I am.”

“But you won’t be able to shapeshift when you’re with me.”

“It’ll work out somehow.”

“...You are so irresponsible.”

“It’s just my fool’s blood talking.”

“Hmph!” Kaisei snorted and stood up. Cradling the sleeping Grandmother in her arms, she silently watched the lights winding towards us.

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There’s an urban legend that says Kyoto Tower is just a tanuki transformed.

Along the same vein, it’s widely known that the Navel Stone that sits ensconced before the Rokkakudō on the grounds of Shiunzan Chōhōji is a tanuki. It was me who in my younger days attempted to expose that fact to all the world with the genius idea of smoking it out with burning pine needles. I’d been of a mind to use the same method to expose Kyoto Tower, but the severe scolding I’d gotten after the Navel Stone incident had put paid to that idea. To this day I haven't been able to clear away my doubts about that tower.

The morning Yajirō left Kyoto, he and I stood before Kyoto Station, looking up at that orange toadstool soaring up into the crisp blue sky.

“Don’t you think it looks like a tanuki, Yajirō?” I asked.

“I’ve thought about it before. But don’t you go trying to smoke it out, Yasaburō!”

“Come on, you know I’m past that sort of stuff.” I pointed to the tip of the tower. “Apparently Benten sits up there sometimes drinking cocktails.”

“It does look perfect for a tengu perch.”

“...Father did always like this tower for some reason, didn’t he?”

“By the time I get back to Kyoto, I might be homesick for this tower too.”

Our father, Shimogamo Sōichirō, used to visit tanuki all over Japan on behalf of the tanuki of Kyoto, and every time he came back he used to say he missed this tower more and more. There must be something about it that triggers a tanuki’s homesickness.

City buses streamed in and out of the station without end, and commuters and students bustled past breathing white steam into the air. I was disguised as a college student, and in his suit and tie Yajirō blended right into the morning commute crowd. He carefully adjusted the cloth bundle he was carrying, which contained all of his worldly belongings.

At last Yaichirō came along, bringing Gyokuran and Yashirō with him.

“My apologies for the tardiness, Yajirō. I couldn’t find Mother.”

“That’s not your fault. That makes it a little easier for me to leave.”

“Well, perhaps so.”

“You know Mother would try to stop me from leaving. I wouldn’t get anywhere!”

“Mother really is quite bad at goodbyes,” agreed Gyokuran.

Last night during the farewell party at the Scarlet Pane on Teramachi Street, Mother had thrown a fit and refused to come to the sendoff, and when we tried to get her this morning she had led us a merry chase around the Tadasu Forest, before jumping into a taxi and departing for only she knew where.

She had been this way even when Father was still alive, so awkward when it came to sending someone off on a long journey. Once, when Father was going to the island of Iki in Kyushu, she had come to the station, which was all well and good. But she was so reluctant to say goodbye that she actually jumped on the train and accompanied him all the way to Kobe, taking a detour to the Takarazaka Revue to mollify herself before coming back.

“Yajirō, you’ve got the medicine, right?” asked Yashirō. “Don’t forget to take it, or you’ll turn back into a frog!”

“Yep, Grandma’s medicine’s right here in the bundle.”

Yajirō opened up a thick train timetable and showed us his route on a map. First he was visiting the tanuki of the Komachi hot springs at Kurashiki. The tanuki clan here was a branch that had split off from the Nanzenji clan some decades ago, and Yajirō was visiting them on behalf of Nanzenji Shōjirō. After spending several days at Kurashiki, he would swing round Onomichi and Tomonoura visiting tanuki there as well.

“I’ll take my time there thinking about what to do next.”

“If you end up going across Shikoku, be sure to say hello to the Kinchō clan,” Yaichirō requested.

The Kinchō clan of Komatsushima had had a good relationship with Father, who had taken Yaichirō and Yajirō to visit them once. After Father’s death, there had been precious few chances to further the relationship, and Yaichirō wished to rekindle this partnership that crossed the Seto Inland Sea.

Nanzenji Gyokuran produced a flint that Mother had entrusted to her and struck sparks over Yajirō, who ducked his head. “Now you’re ready. I’m sure you’ll have a wonderful trip, Yajirō!”

“Thank you. By the time I return, you’ll be my sister-in-law, I suppose?”

“I don’t know why you bring something like that up now,” Gyokuran blushed.

Composing his expression, Yajirō bowed low to us. “I am humbled that you have come to see me off. I depart now on a journey, that I may return an embiggened tanuki. I bid you all a fond farewell.”

“Come back whenever you feel ready,” said Yaichirō. “We’ll all be waiting.”

“We’ll all be waiting for you!” echoed Yashirō. “Bring us back some souvenirs!”

“You’d better come back, you hear?” I demanded.

“I know that I have a home, now. So don’t you worry, I’ll be back.”

Swinging his bindle, Yajirō walked determinedly through the ticket barrier, and with that same confident stride disappeared into the crowd. For a long time after we lost sight of him, we all stared at the ticket barrier as if in prayer. It felt like doing that would give Yajirō a bit more luck on his journey. Yaichirō remained there longest of all, still unmoving even after the rest of us had turned away.

Thus, Shimogamo Yajirō departed on his journey.

　　　　　　　◯

I found Mother at the billiards hall on the west end of the Kamo Bridge.

Through the glass door, the interior of the hall was warm and cozy, and sunlight spilled onto the floorboards through the windows that faced onto the Kamo River. I could hear the crack of a cue ball coming from the second floor. With a cup of coffee in hand I went up the stairs, to find a princely young man perfumed with the aura of the Takarazuka leaning over a table, alone. I sat down on a chair and sipped my coffee, watching silently over Mother as she knocked around the balls.

At long last Mother opened her mouth. “Has that boy gone?”

“We just saw him off at Kyoto Station.”

“Just when I thought he’d finally come back to the forest, off he goes again.”

“Yajirō’ll be back.”

Mother took the offered coffee and walked to the window, warming her hands around the cup. “...Sō was always afraid of him leaving Kyoto. He said that he might not come back. That’s why I didn’t want to let him go, especially him.”

Today was the first really cold morning of winter. White herons swooped over the Kamo River, and far-off Higashiyama stood out as clearly as though I was looking through a telescope. But Mother saw none of those things, her unfocused gaze only looking out into the distance. Reflected in her eyes, I knew, was the image of Yajirō passing through the ticket barrier at Kyoto Station.

“...Perhaps he thought me cruel, for not coming to see him off,” Mother said faintly, like she was talking to herself. “But I just didn’t know that I could let his hands go. If I’d looking him in the eyes, if I’d begged him to stay, that child never would have been able to go—”

“He was very upbeat when he left. I’m sure it’ll be a good journey.”

When I said that, Mother turned around and smiled. “Yes, I’m sure it will,” she said. “It’s what you all decided, after all. Sō would have let him go.”

I was sure then that Yaichirō letting Yajirō go on his journey had been the right thing to do.

Yajirō would have a splendid journey. He’d meet all sorts of kind people and tanuki, and the sun would always shine on his fur. And most importantly of all, Yajirō would without any doubt one day return to Kyoto.

I truly believed that from the bottom of my heart.